Hitsuzen
by feisu-chan
Summary: Hitsuzen: The Inevitable. Their story in a few words, their lives before zanpakutou's and hell butterflies and Soul Society.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**

* * *

**They said once you were born into this world, your soul was already tied up with one's soul.

At one time or another, you'd be running around the world and eventually ending up meeting this other soul.

Whether just in passing or spending the rest of your lives together, you'd meet one way or another.

If you died, that other soul will follow.

And in another world you'd be born again.

With that other soul tied up with yours – yet again.

If by any chance, your souls didn't have a decent meeting in this world, maybe the next meeting would be beautiful.

Or the next after the next.

Matsumoto Rangiku mused.

Hopefully, someday, somewhere their souls would meet again. In another world, in another lifetime, under another circumstances.

Surely, that day would come. And surely, when the time came, she might be able to tell him how much she desired to be with him.

Not like this.

She was indeed with him, dying beside him. Dying together.

As enemies, victims of war and conflict.

Victims of a painful, sadistic love that was too impossible to show.

She knew he loved her, too. Despite his cold exterior, sarcastic attitude, and indescribable desire to kill, he loved her.

At least at one point, she had believed that.

When she saw him glance her way, she knew his eyes glowed like fireflies faintly fighting the night.

And it was only to her that his eyes moved the way it did.

As if searching for her soul, trying to grasp an understanding how a thread could have been tied between them.

Was it possible? Ichimaru Gin and Matsumoto Rangiku, both the respected leaders of two highly prestigious clans in the Tokugawa Era, of two clans forever warring since time immemorial, bound in intricate braids of colorful strings contrasting their dark natures?

The strings were as colorful as the spring.

But the two tried to ignore it, forget about it.

For they were Ichimaru Gin and Matsumoto Rangiku.

Leaders of two highly prestigious clans in the Tokugawa Era.

Of two clans forever warring since time immemorial.

A story of two star-crossed lovers. Never admitting of their love.

But stubborn as they were, they could never fight off _hitsuzen_.

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**AN: **My first attempt on drabble series... Hitsuzen was inspired by CLAMP's principle on soulmates and the inevitable. Enjoy! Hope you like it. Review please.


	2. The Distance

**The Distance

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**

It never stopped, the rain. It had been dark and gloomy and wet since a week and a day ago.

But swordsmen and ninja alike worked like a horse. It was ordered by the lord to stop the neighboring daimyo from expanding its territories. That meant, stopping the advancing forces through all means possible.

That said, all preparations should be finished by now, and actual operations should commence the night after the next as the latest.

Ichimaru Gin sat silently in his room, sharpening his katana with special granite. In the dark, no one would have recognized him, if not for the sole candle illuminating the room, its fire dance with each thrust he made with his blade on the rock.

Only his blade and his whitish-gray hair shone through the yellow light. His eyes were closed, seldom allowing the light-blue orbs to drown in its surroundings; his teeth hidden behind that impish smile he wore with his strikingly fearful face.

It worked, most of the time, that hair-raising demeanor. It tamed disobedient subordinates, silenced a noisy marketplace, panicked enemies.

All but to one person.

And one person he dared not ponder on.

No. Not today.

Or ever.

He continued sharpening. That fast shrill from the contact echoed across the room. And it helped him clear his mind.

It was the dawn of a new era, cliché as it may sound. But the Tokugawa Era had just begun. And it had only been ten years.

Lords of vast lands fought to death to retain their titles. Samurais were forced to choose to give up their lands or their profession. They'd either work for the daimyo directly ruling over their land or keep their homes and live as a civilian, surrendering their swords in the process.

The Ichimaru family, prestigious and revered and feared, had maintained its status by rising through the pedestals as the daimyo of Western Osaka. Even the emperor of Edo and the shogun of the Tokugawa regime knew Ichimaru.

And even the imperial court and the shogunate knew the conflict that struck the western lands of Osaka.

For everybody knew that the Ichimaru clan had been fighting with the Matsumoto clan for the possession of the whole of Western Osaka probably since probably Amaterasu was bore from Izanagi's left eye.

And that war had been stretched far too long no one could remember who started it, and what provoked who to start it.

The Edo Era only sparked everything. The conflict only got worse, the central government had given up and decided to leave matters to fate, if not for the Dutch Ambassadors intervening to either promote peace and goodwill or hide a hidden agenda behind good-will.

The Matsumoto family was as powerful and stubborn as the Ichimaru's – that much Gin had known by heart. They would rather eat their pigs' stool than step on their pride and lost the fight.

The door connecting his room to the hallway suddenly opened.

"Ichimaru-taichou, the squad is about to discuss the finalities over dinner," Izuru Kira, Gin's right-hand, bowed as he delivered the news.

"I'll be there in a moment," he announced, never stopping what he was doing, or even turning around to acknowledge the other's presence.

Kira bowed again to gesture his departure and closed the shoji door.

In a moment, Ichimaru Gin wiped his katana with a clean cloth and blew on the rock to relieve it of dusts from the once-dull blade.

And as he blew it away, the candle caught a few and the light reflected on it. For a moment, it reminded him of stardust that he saw in a certain someone's hair as the sun or the moon danced with it.

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**AN: **Standard Disclaimer applies, i.e. characters are from **Kubo Tite's BLEACH**. Plot is situationed in the Edo Period.

*Amaterasu and Izanagi - gods of Japanese mythology.

This is a drabble series, and I'll update it as often as I could.

Enjoy! And review please!


	3. Terrified

**Terrified

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**

The servants tied the final sash in her kimono, handed her an umbrella before she reached over to the table and picked the Nadeshiko she arranged herself, and the blade she always carried around with her.

It was a rainy day, and her mother would have hated it. Which is why she took an effort to make herself as the daughter her mother had always wanted to have. At least, in this special day of commemoration, she was able to please her, though Matsumoto Rangiku never had a chance to do so when her mother was alive.

But that was understandable. Mothers would always want their daughters to be prim and proper and always pleasant for any potential husband. Not as rugged as a street thug and could fight better than any man!

Though her father had tolerated it. After all, she was the closest to a son he never had. With her unmatched skill in martial arts and her prowess as a strategist and a swordfighter, she led the Matsumoto clan in the fight they had had for centuries and centuries.

Once ready, she opened the umbrella and stepped out of the house, the ikebana secured in her left hand.

For Rangiku, walking around in the rain and splashing through puddles were a hassle, most especially when dressed in an expensive kimono. But for the people she passed by, she held a breathtaking grace, especially with her sun-kissed hair waving and bouncing about and around her aristocratic face.

"I din't expect ya here."

She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She counted from one to five in her head, and right on time, Ichimaru Gin was in front of her, waving at her like the bastard that he was.

"I don't expect you to be as cocky either, Ichimaru-san. Have you grown balls overnight to challenge me in a fight in the middle of the day, in the middle of town?" She continued walking, trying to ignore the distraction ahead.

Iyaaa! Rangiku-chan…"

"Don't call me that as if we are closely acquainted!"

"Eh? Are we not? We've known each other since we were kids. And this is a public place, ya see, so I have every right to be here as much as you do," taunted Gin.

"Tsk. Annoying."

Ichimaru Gin.

Legendary Bastard.

Number One Enemy, not only of the Matsumoto Clan, but personally of Matsumoto Rangiku.

She hated him to the core.

Back when they were kids, when all innocence was still intact and all knowledge of an impending conflict was beyond them, he trampled on the daisies she had patiently picked with care. She punched him squarely in the face and forced him to apologize. But he only ran away, crying. That night, the Ichimaru ninjas raided them, demanding proper compensation for what happened to the young master.

When she was twelve, she wore a very beautiful kimono her mother had bought her. It was the Winter Festival, and Hisagi Shuuhei had asked her out as his date. When the fireworks display were about to start, Ichimaru Gin decided to pull a prank at her and fired two sticks, causing her kimono to catch fire and her dropping her favorite dried persimmons and anko dumplings at Shuuhei's kimono. Her kimono burned and she was stripped to the thighs, embarrassing herself in front of the village and Shuuhei. The next day, the Matsumoto samurais marched to the front yard of the Ichimaru mansion, challenging everybody to a fight as revenge for the festival's scandal.

At present times, she hated him as he was the only warrior she couldn't defeat.

"Isn't it improper for a lady ta be walkin' round alone?" he pressed.

"It's almost noontime, Ichimaru-san. If you tried opening your eyes more often, you might see that the sun is at its highest. Then you wouldn't say something as moronic as that," she scoffed. "And day or night, you should know well enough that I am much capable of taking care of myself."

"Hmmmm. Point taken. But, Ran-chan, shouldn't you have someone carry that pretty flower?"

"I appreciate your concern, Ichimaru-san, but if only you weren't an enemy, I would have asked you to relieve my _helpless_ hands of this burden. But you are my family's enemy, and I don't want my mother's flowers be tainted with your grimes."

"Oh, right! It's your mother's anniversary today –"

"That is correct, now would you grant me the serenity, and leave me be?"

"– so if ya don't mind me taggin' along to accompany ya."

"I'd rather not, sir."

"It'd be my pleasure." And when Rangiku thought he had finally left, his footsteps were suddenly heard again. In an instant, her hands were unoccupied. Gin was holding the umbrella for her and the Nadeshiko on his other hand.

"Yosh, Ran-chan. Let's go visit the shrine." He smiled – no, he grinned. And Matsumoto knew that grin.

It was something she shouldn't trust. _He's up to something._

Her fingers slyly reached for a discrete crease on her sash where she hid her dagger. But her hand was moving on its own, as if governed only by instinct. As her mind and her heart were nowhere near stabbing the grinning man.

This grin was of evil nature, and yet, it made Matsumoto Rangiku palpitate and buckle to weakness.

And somehow, inside, she felt good having him shed her from the rain.

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**AN: **Standard disclaimers apply. Enjoy! :3


	4. Spolarium

**Spolarium**

* * *

She was left with no choice but to walk with him. In the rain. Under one umbrella. Him holding her Nadeshiko arrangement. For her. In public. Matsumoto walking side-by-side with Ichimaru. In public. _Without_ _fighting_.

This wasn't a good day.

They continued walking. Together. In public. And yes, I know you got the drift the first time. Only a few steps further, the temple would be visible. She'd just have to offer the flowers, kneel and pray, and get rid of him after she got away from the sacred place.

She watched him from the corner of her eyes. And it irritated her how cool his composure was. As if the whole picture was so normal.

"Were you always this silent?"

_Ignore. Ignore. This is a trap._

"I remember your big mouth always complaining on everything else. Who died and made you mute?"

_He must have a new prank. What could it be this time? Did he stick something on my back?_ Absent-mindedly, she frisked for an evil note but found none.

"Or are you rather shy when around me?"

_Maybe he's planning on running away with my flowers and my umbrella? Dammit! I shouldn't have given him the umbrella! _

"Now, now, Ran-chan, you're really hurting my feelings. You could at least pretend you're listening."

_God, will the walking ever end? Has the temple suddenly moved?! How come it seems like it's taking a long time to get there?_

And so, Ichimaru Gin continued talking and Matsumoto Rangiku continued ignoring him and analyzing his hidden intentions. And he kept distracting her, with that sly smile and his suddenly lively pair of eyes that shone to reflect each raindrop.

She had very few instances that she had seen him open his eyes. And most of them were in battle when their blades clashed against each other and their fists negated each punch.

Gin replaced the umbrella on his other hand and balanced the flowers on his elbow. Suddenly, he reached out to her, and was about to tuck her hair to get her attention when she saw him at the corner of her eyes. She reacted rather violently.

Gin's outstretched hand was beheld by the wrist and was twisted so hard that he had almost knelt in pain. Rangiku had retrieved the blade from its hiding place and slid it to his neck.

But he was as fast as she was.

He had closed the umbrella to block her attack. In that process, all blurry to bystanders oblivious of an escalating fight, the Nadeshiko fell to the ground and was later trampled by both of their cautious feet.

"Now my day's ruined," she hissed, pushing the knife as hard as she could, but in vain.

"Ironic, isn't it?"

"Ironic, my ass!" Gin bent his wrist to grab hold of her hand, but Rangiku wouldn't budge and even gripped him tighter.

"Fate was never on our side," he taunted. She could only gather her eyebrows in a tight line, confusion scrunching up her face. "If things had been different, Ran-chan, would it have been better?"

She didn't answer. She didn't understand what he was saying. The bastard's suddenly talking in riddles, she hated it! No witty retort to slap him in the face. This bastard!

"Maybe next time, if I catch up with you, we could be just as lucky. Maybe then, you wouldn't want to kill me as much as you do now, ne, Rangiku?" Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

To Ichimaru Gin, it was blissful seeing her cautious and defenseless against his teasing. Her sharp mouth momentarily muted as she tried to decrypt his words.

However, to Ichimaru Gin, it was also a creepy knowledge that his snide remarks were of his own dark thoughts. Thoughts he hadn't allowed himself to ponder upon. But he did now. And only now did he have the courage to do so, even spoke of it in front of her.

"You're too fond of yourself, Gin. I would kill you anytime of the day, anywhere…"

For he knew, in three days time, he would have to put a stop on the war.

"I wouldn't count on that, Rangiku. Surely, the gods would have little pity on us. At one point, fate would have to lose those playful hands."

"I'll find it out, whatever it is you're planning."

Rangiku pushed him off and let go of his wrist, him following her lead. She glared at him with contempt and more rage as her vision trailed on the broken stems of the Nadeshiko. With one last exhale of angry air, she stomped away, forgetting the umbrella that was still in Gin's hands, and never minding the rain.

He chuckled to himself, rather darkly. He could have said those words to her in a more appropriate setting, in a more appropriate manner. But this was the only opportunity he could think of. And his sardonic personality was getting ahead of him.

Still, to mess with her thoughts brought not an amusing entertainment to him, but rather a messy blur of guilt and advanced grief. For in three days, he had gambled with fate to wipe the Matsumoto clan out.

Guilt continued to eat at him, for reasons he didn't want to mull over than necessary. It would distract him of his plans, yes; yet he was distracted enough. Though, for what ever it's worth, Ichimaru Gin just shrugged, and pulled his robe over his shoulders that night. He took Rangiku's umbrella with him and rushed out of the mansion.

Tomorrow morning, it had surprised Matsumoto Rangiku; for her umbrella and a lone red spider lily lay on the shrine and another lily on her mother's grave.

It was not Gin's intention to make something out of the flower he offered her; he picked it because he couldn't find a decent Nadeshiko, nor any flower he thought might suit her.

However, Rangiku did. For one, Gin would never put an effort to apologize. He would always, always play with her. One of his habits she hated so much.

And, you see, this lily had a story. One about two elves, who guarded the lily's leaves and the other, protected the flower. But at one time, they had defied their fate and left the lily. The two met somewhere and fell in love at first glance. The gods were furious, and separated the two; cursing them that the leaves would never meet the flower ever again. But it was said that the two elves had met in Hell and promised to meet after reincarnation, only to have their words spoken in vain.

Rangiku pushed that legend aside. Instead, she had looked at the flower as a sign of Gin's plan, since the lily was the flower of the afterlife, so often used in funerals.

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**A/N: **

Dear **chemiskorpion0002**, hahaha, I will not dedicate this chapter to you because of the stinky lameness... I'll make a better chapter for you, if I am lucky enough to be able to write one! XXDD Maybe I could if you continue writing more yourself! nyahahahahaha!

About the red-spider lily thing? There really is a Chinese/Japanese legend about that, and it was fate to have found it on Wiki while I was searching for a Jaanese flower. It's meaning in Japanese flower-language is Never to meet again/Lost memory/Abandonment. Love it!

Enjoy!!! :3


	5. The Thing About You

**The Thing About You**

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August Seventh. Risshū. Beginning of autumn.

Four in the morning. All the dews still lingered with the leaves. The fog didn't thin. Matsumoto Rangiku patrolled the fields of wheat in silence.

Something would go wrong. She just knew it.

Despite every thing in its own place – the moon on its way to the east to set where the sun would soon take its place, dragonflies so early in their own flight, the last of the summer rains to fall upon her – she just couldn't let that disturbing uncertainty stop from pulsing through her veins.

She had stalked him through all afternoon yesterday until early dawn, but found nothing productive. All she had done useful was to order her troops to stay prepared. Everything else was stark bullshit.

Ichimaru Gin training with his stupid katana and striking it at stupid tree trunks and helpless immobile dummies; Ichimaru Gin talking all lordly and arrogant to his subordinates; Ichimaru Gin passing the time, leaning on his shoji door and smoking a pipe as if the world stopped to watch him puff the smoke out; and most of all, Ichimaru Gin having that sad expression painted across his face as he stared out to the stars – something that had eerily bothered Rangiku at first, and later bothered her to no end as she watched him talk to the sky with his eyes.

Was it her, or was it the rain's effects with the swaying wheat stalks in front of her, that he actually looked serene with that serious, brooding face? Maybe it was only that little lighting from the moon that made his face glow, exuding something that also made _her_ at peace. Somehow.

Or maybe it was the most idiotic thing she had ever thought of!

Maybe she was just too hungry and too tired she was delirious. Right! That must be it. There's no way – none at all! – that Ichimaru Gin was serene or sad or _glowing_ at all!

But never would Matsumoto Rangiku think that it was her who had made Gin as pensive as he was.

And little did Matsumoto Rangiku know that even hours after he had blew the candle off, he was wide awake and had acquainted with the ceiling all too well.

Was it ever possible, Gin had thought, that he would feel pity and regret towards her? That knowing she would die just hours from now made half of him to want to cancel the plan they had carefully strategized for so long?

When did all these uncertainties start, he didn't know. How serious it was? It was serious enough it wasn't even funny.

But then again, Gin's sadistic side reigning in, if Matsumoto Rangiku would die, he'd be free of this vague suffering. He could move on with his life so perfectly.

With that resolve, Gin shifted to his right and stared at his futon for the longest time, yet never, never falling to sleep.

Frustrated, he rose and took his pipe from the table and lit it on his veranda. Everything else was in its own place - the moon setting beneath the clouds and into the sea, dragonflies so eager to fly from one grass blade to another, the summer showers finally coming to a close – and yet where did he belong in all of these?

His pipe glowed beautifully and he filled his lungs with that bitter soot. In an attempt to clear his mind, he smoked away and smoked as much as he had never smoked before.

He watched the sun enlighten everything else around him. Once he had heard people shuffling in preparation from inside the mansion, he stood, puffed one last lungful of the dried tobacco, and then straightened his robe.

At dusk, they would advance. Until then, he would rid his soul of the annoying jitters.

* * *

Dusk had finally arrived. Everything else still belonged to each of their very own places, and Matsumoto Rangiku had just returned to her same spot in the wheat fields from a short visit back home.

Nothing suspicious was observed, the Matsumoto camp was fine. And when they asked where she had been, she would just give them an unspecific answer. Ichimaru Gin was still in the mansion, doing nothing exciting at all but to mope around and smoke and brood and stare at something so distant.

What a bore!

She could have dismissed this whole spying thing, if not for the funny feeling continuously screaming "DANGER! DANGER!" at her.

Gin had emerged from the room, and was already holding his katana. He sheathed it and locked it to a belt on his waist, as he nodded to Izuru Kira. The two walked past the gates and into the pathway leading to town.

Rangiku followed, of course, through the fields and bushes. When Gin and Izuru detoured and went straight to a dirt road, Rangiku immediately knew where they were going. It was an old path that was no longer being used, and it would only lead to the backdoor of the Matsumoto grounds.

Would they be attacking us, she pondered, when it was only the two of them? That would be impossible. Even her troops were strong enough to defeat them. But something still isn't right. And her instincts came true when she saw someone rushing towards them.

"Sousuke?" She gasped. She would have taken the meeting as something a soldier would do when an enemy tried to cross over the borders. But when Aizen Sousuke, a samurai who was employed by her father even before he married her mother, not to mention that he was also one of the top fighter and most trusted men, bowed to greet Ichimaru Gin, she immediately confirmed what was wrong.

She moved closer to hear what they were saying.

"Were you being followed?" Kira asked.

"No. But everything is in place. It should commence soon."

"Did Rangiku suspected ya or anythin'?"

"I haven't seen her since yesterday. My men said she had something to do alone."

"So she's not home?"

Rangiku was grateful she didn't say anything about what she was doing. And yet, discovering that Aizen Sousuke was a mole, a traitor, she was seething! And she had to get back home now, before more damage would be done. She would inform her father about this unexpected collaboration, and then make plans on how to make that ungrateful bastard stop breathing.

She was thinking it over and was all over her head when suddenly, a loud bang distracted her. It was a massive blast that she almost kissed the ground. However, it wasn't the loud bang that scared her. It was the direction from where the explosion came from. Because as Rangiku raised her head to look around, a dark cloud of smoke welcomed her and red licks of fire crackled at a distance.

The Matsumoto mansion was in flames.

In an instant, she was on her feet and was running straight towards the house, not minding the branches that slapped her face as she went. But her hopes of saving some of her men – and her father! God, her father was in there! – were utterly dissolved when she reached the garden on the west part of the estate. The roof crumbled so easily with the walls. Ancient wood and tatami mats all turned to dust in a blink.

Bodies scattered around almost limbless or unrecognizable because of the burns. It was horrid, tragic! Everything else was in there! Her father, her comrades, her friends, her memories, her life! Strip them off her, she was nothing.

No one to belong to.

And that epiphany – of having lost everything in front of her eyes – shattered her to the point of almost flinging herself to the fire when suddenly her attention was shifted to three men walking towards the burning house. Others were walking around to survey the area – all from the Ichimaru side.

Sure, this incident had been repeated a thousand times before; their ancestors probably had done a whole lot worse than burning a house down. But, still, this didn't justify the pain and the anger that was crippling her to madness.

She gripped on the hilt of her sword, detached the scabbard, and sprinted head-on to where Ichimaru Gin stood.

If she died today, it's only proper to take the devil with her.

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**A/N: chemiskorpion0002**, nope, still not this chapter! :3 Hmmmm... Maybe I'll just give this whole story to you since you seemed to like it so much... hahahaha! Hey, M, may we continue to write more fanfic once we enrolled ourselves in CW courses... XXDD

I think I should credit **The Fray** for their song **Never Say Never** for getting my lazy fingers up and type this chapter. _**I Never** _was the original title for this chapter, but I gather that it doesn't have anything to do with this chappy (not like the title's got anything to do with it, too...)

But anyway, like always, enjoy! :3


	6. Sweetest Downfall

**Sweetest Downfall

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**

His experienced reflexes triggered off as his eyes warned him of the swift, upcoming attack. Ichimaru Gin had already retrieved the blade from the sheath and was about to strike it down to impale her shoulders, but Aizen Sousuke had gotten in between and blocked her katana.

"Withdraw your sword, Matsumoto-dono," he ordered. But Rangiku could only spat at him through tears that she had hatefully held back to keep her composure strong.

"Cut the honorifics, you fucking ingrate! Is this how you repay my father?!"

"It's purely business."

"Business?!" Matsumoto stepped back and raised her hand to strike at Aizen, only to be blocked a second time. "You betrayed my family! And you call that business?"

To say that Gin was relieved to see her somewhat alive, despite her unstable condition, was an _upsetting_ understatement. When he learned from Aizen that she wasn't home, he was hopeful that she wouldn't get tangled up in the explosion.

However, her continuing existence would also mean he had to do the dirty job: eliminate Matsumoto Rangiku himself.

"Aizen." After a short pregnant moment, Aizen hesitatingly dropped his guard and moved to the side. "Leave us. You too, Kira."

She never drifted those hateful eyes away from his face, more so when the other two had left them. And though this was the perfect time for Gin to rub her defeat in, he chose not to; neither was he even hiding behind his usual façade.

Instead, he stared back at her, eyes grave, face stern. It was a look of a cold, emotionless killer. Maybe it was another of those fronts he was so fond of using. But then again, what should the proper expression be when standing in front of the girl whose family you have killed, whose girl your heart had unconsciously and secretly became partial to through the years of constant abhorrence and fray?

"Rangiku, we won this time," he said, in the most detached voice he could muster. "Sorry."

It was the tears, however, which continued to spill endlessly down her pained features, that pushed him over the edge of mere pity to something deeper; and he almost failed to block another of her strike.

His right arm bled upon contact with her blade as he opposed it the last minute. Rangiku even pressed the sword deeper, cutting through the muscles and hitting the bone. She raised her leg, and in a quick twist, she kicked him high on the chest.

He stumbled to the ground and in the process, his injured arm landed first, cushioning his fall and breaking a bone altogether. Gin winced in pain, and he failed to hide it as Rangiku pushed him with her sole so he was lying on his back. Her foot now rested on his chest and she brought the tip of her katana over to touch that part of his neck where his throat was prominent.

"You're never sorry, and you still haven't won."

"You don't have to do this…"

"Shouldn't you be begging a bit harder this time?" she grimaced.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to…" It wasn't a plea, or his sarcastic retort. And neither was it his pathetic elusion to escape immediate death through her hands. "All these years, you never seemed to strike a blow at me and really mean it."

It's also a mystery to Rangiku how Gin could be so perfect being such a bastard without even trying! Frustrated, she poked the blade again. "Hn. You think so, huh? Killing you won't bring my life back, but I would do it anyway."

With that threat, she raised the sword in a neat fraction; Gin, on the other hand, raised his chin and eyed her as if challenging her to hit him good.

She took it, the challenge.

Rangiku already scraped her newly sharpened katana and cut his skin. It bled, too; though the wound was no less superficial. She had the opportunity to cut him up, as he couldn't defend himself at all – except for the other uninjured arm.

However, in that infinitesimal moment, of which Matsumoto Rangiku would forever question herself and Ichimaru Gin would always remember, she wavered.

Her irresolute heart hesitated and her fingers fisted on the hilt, turning her knuckles white with anger. She willed herself to move the sword just one more inch – or was it only half? – and she would have won. But there was something in there that prevented her to do it and that rendered her whole body paralyzed.

They stayed like that, Gin lying on the ground and Rangiku stepping on him. And they stared at each other with confusion they tried to feign as hate and coldness, trying to comprehend what just happened. It wasn't until Gin pulled the sword away from her that the odd trance was broken. She faltered and curled herself on the ground, grasping at the hem of her black yukata as if doing so would give her strength.

She cried; for the first time in so many years, she cried. Of grief and sorrow and betrayal and defeat and stupid vagueness and of Ichimaru Gin.

And Ichimaru Gin let her. For this was the only consolation he could offer her. But he never left her to there to cry and rot. Instead, he just laid there, hands behind his head, the other bruised and bleeding, and he stared back at the dark skies threatening another rain. The house continued to burn on the background, but the flames eventually diminished to a faint glow, but burning still.

His men might have gone home, he didn't really know. He didn't care. For he only watched the night dawn upon them and listened to her cries as it reduced from hyperventilating sobs to stifles and eventually to even breathing.

He didn't know what to do with her. Bring her home, and his clan leaders would do a riot; leave her there as she slept, and his insides would kill him again. But to run away with her was something that kept playing on his head. If only that was possible, he would have done it the minute it passed his mind.

Of course, he could get away from all the battle, he had succeeded in conquering all of Western Osaka, anyway. He could wander around and settle in a small hut by the sea or in a cabin by the foot of the hills. But if he took her with him, it wouldn't stop the hate, would it? It would only pain her to live with the man who killed her home.

To kill her and fulfill the ultimate victory for his clan was another option. But he just couldn't make himself do that. At least not yet, he thought. Maybe some other time, whenever that may be, but not today. But he would keep stalling, and stall even more, until that fated time would come.

He rose. And slowly, slowly, he scooped her up into his arms, never minding the increasing pain.

He walked away from the grievous place and into the endless fields of grass and into a thicket of foliages threatening to fall in time for autumn as the last of the summer rains cried with her.

* * *

"_Teru-teru-bozu, teru bozu_

_Do make tomorrow a sunny day_

_Like the sky in a dream sometime_

_If it's sunny I'll give you a golden bell."_

"Shut up!" Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle.

"Teru-teru-bozu, teru bozu…"

"Tsk."

"_Teru-teru-bozu, teru bozu_

_Do make tomorrow a sunny day_

_If you make my wish come true_

_We'll drink lots of sweet rice wine."_

"Stop it already! You're filling the place up."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it? Teru-teru-bozu, teru bozu…"

"It's disgusting!"

"Oh, you're such a child, Shiro-chan!"

"I'll kick you!"

"Toshiro-kun, don't talk to her like that. It's not nice."

"Yeah, and I'm older than you, Shiro-chan…"

"We're of the same age, baka!"

"But I'm taller than you."

"But you still wet your bed, bed-wetter Momo."

The girl named Momo was about to retaliate when there was a soft knocking on the door, too soft that they almost missed it with the strong rain outside.

"Can you get the door, Shiro-kun?" said the old woman who had become the guardian of the two kids since she found them wandering in the woods.

Hinamori Momo, that sweet little girl, and Hitsugaya Toshiro, that serious little boy, were neighbors in a village not too far from the Western Osaka district. But their town got caught in the middle of war with the shogun, their parents died.

She no longer had family herself as her husband had died of yellow fever and they never bore a child. Adopting the two wouldn't pose much of a problem. It would be fun to have that feeling of building a family again, she had mulled over as soon as she saw them both.

"Hai, Oba-chan," Toshiro obeyed and went straight to the door. However, the moment the heard the door slid open, it was slid back to close in an instant. Toshiro came back marching to the main room with that exasperated expression. And then, the knocking again.

"Will you just open the door, Shiro. The person outside might be soaking wet," Momo ordered, still busy making more white dolls to hang.

"It's the fox. Let him drown."

"Oh!"

"Fox?"

"Ichimaru Gin, oba-san," Momo explained. She was a bit reserved when dealing with him; Shiro was rather outspoken about it, as Gin would never pass a chance to tease him. However, their granny was so fond of Ichimaru – despite that overly fake smile that seemed to taunt and scare everyone else – because at one time during the yellow fever outbreak, Gin had been constantly visiting them to provide immediate relief for her husband.

Oba-san was convinced that there was the slightest hint of humanity in him.

Their grandmother opened the door instead, and let him in. He was indeed soaking wet from the rain, and dripping blood from his wound. And in his arms was a sleeping woman with ginger hair. Granny had gasped at the sight, not because they were wet or injured, but because the leader of the Ichimaru clan had brought the leader of the Matsumoto clan into her humble home.

"What is that?" Toshiro inquired when Gin went inside the house. "Is she drunk?" But there was no answer, neither was the usual harassment take place.

Rather, Gin had softly laid Rangiku to the futon Momo had immediately taken out from their closet. He then turned to the old woman to ask them to look after her for tonight or at least until she was stable enough to be alone. And he got out of the house as soon as he got Granny's acceptance of the favor.

Momo went back to making white dolls and hanging them up on windowsills, Toshiro continued shutting Momo up, and their grandmother wiped Matsumoto's hair dry, wondering what happened to the warring clans.

"_Teru-teru-bozu, teru bozu_

_Do make tomorrow a sunny day_

_But if the clouds are crying (it's raining)_

_Then I shall snip your head off…_" Momo carried on with her singing.

* * *

**A/N: **Ichimaru Gin and Matsumoto Rangiku will go on indefinite leave... hahaha! Mihara had asked for love for this fic, and sorry if this is the only love I could give (that didn't come out right... o.O). Not yet, maybe? I just suck at fluff!

M, eto na nga boss eh! hahaha!

_Teru-teru bozu_: shiny-shiny Buddhist priest. little traditional hand-made doll made of white paper or cloth that Japanese farmers began hanging outside of their window by a string. This amulet is supposed to have magical powers to bring good weather and to stop or prevent a rainy day. (Source: )

The song Momo was singing is the English translation of the Japanese nursery rhyme. Source is also from Wikipedia.

Standard disclaimers apply! Enjoy!


	7. Runaway

**Runaway

* * *

**

Sometimes, Ichimaru Gin scared her.

Like closet monsters, or school bullies, or rice farmers who chased after crows while waving shovels like wands.

Now, he scared her in an endless dream of hide and seek, and he was the kitsune chasing after a victim to possess. He entered beneath her fingernails like those stories so popular in the streets at night. In moments, her face distorted to a foxy grin and her mouth frothed and she went mad, like those women possessed of the fox spirit.

She knew she could fight him, with her prowess in the arts of the sword. But the kitsune was so much powerful than her that lifting her hand took eternity to do. No one was kind enough to bring her to the onmyouji and exorcise her. Everything was pitch dark, except for the silver hair and silver grin the fox had used to take the form of a human.

She was helpless, like the trite trope of females in low-class kabuki plays. But there was something about the way of her weakness that somehow kept her in place and made her feel safe. But it was just the mad woman thinking, she thought! And it scared her how his evil paws could suddenly charm her to calmness.

But really, she convinced herself, that was just the mad woman possessed by the fox thinking.

Through dark alleys and dark rubbles, she ran. But it was all in vain, for her mouth still bubbled with hate and her soul consumed with his wrath. She was his possession, like a fly caught in the silken threads of the black spider.

And he scared her.

And her legs were straining, and her lungs breathless, and she felt like dying. And in that instant, she unknowingly jumped. Eyes burst open when somebody yelled "ITAAAAIIII!" Her senses were all confused as she surveyed her surroundings. Everything was bright. There's the sun, white papers formed into childish dolls hanging everywhere, and it smelled good – like fried mushrooms and stewed beef.

"You could have said sorry, you know," someone hissed beside her, and her heart skipped she held her breasts to keep it in place.

"Shiro-chan, it was your fault. You were hovering over her face," another one interrupted.

Matsumoto Rangiku turned and saw two kids sitting beside her futon.

"Baka! She was drooling on _my_ pillow! I was just about to wake her up!" Instantly, she wiped the sides of her mouth. "Kami! How juvenile! You still drool like a child; do you wet your bed, too?"

"What the –"

"Shiro-chan, that's really rude!" Momo immediately stood up and bowed to Matsumoto. "I'm sorry about his attitude, he's like that most of the time, but he's really sweet."

"Sweet?"

Lost in thought, Matsumoto just smiled at her and at the little boy who was so surprisingly adorable she couldn't stand to get irritated at. Only after a while did she realize that she didn't know who these people were, whose futon she was sleeping in, and where in the world she was.

And only then did she recall the events that occurred the night before. Aizen, the fire, everyone else dead, Gin. And in an instant, she saw black. No longer sunshine or white paper dolls, but black hate and red blood and sullen grief. Her fingers transformed into fists, and nails dug through her skin.

Yesterday, she had lost everything.

"Uh, ano, are you alright, onee-san?" She didn't respond.

"Oi, lady, Ichimaru Gin brought you here last night."

At the mention of his name, she threw eye daggers at the innocent boy. "Where is he?"

"Ichimaru?" the boy asked in confirmation.

"Where the fuck is he?" she repeated in indignation, causing the other girl to cringe at the dark aura she was exuding.

"Who knows?" he just shrugged, trying to hide his surprise at the sudden shift in Matsumoto's face.

"Um, onee-san, Ichimaru-san left after he asked obaa-san to take care of you. We don't know where he went after, but I think he's at the mansion."

Without so much of a blink, she rose from the futon and rushed outside; picking her sword that was leaning on the door on her way out. She ran and ran and ran; past the small backyard with laundry and wheat stalks hang to dry, towards a field of various grasses still muddy with water from last night's rain.

There was no destination in mind, but she knew she had to find him and make him pay; at least make him suffer as much as she was. Yet, she couldn't get past the long stretch of tall grasses, as if it was an endless sea of green. Matsumoto felt weak from all the running, and from her cringing heart trying to grieve and hate at the same time. It was difficult enough to feel one emotion, she couldn't handle one more.

In frustration, she just took her katana out and slashed at helpless grasses and mud, shouting curses as she did. This was a futile attempt to avenge her clan, she knew; but it was something that made her relieved, at the very least.

* * *

Ichimaru Gin ran to the fields that afternoon as soon as he learned from the children that she ran away. He was rather surprised to still see her there, as he didn't expect her to be staying in the fields all day.

Also, he couldn't just step in and take her back home. She's rampaging like a bull, swinging her sword expertly from side to side and towards tree trunks like an expert kenjutsu fighter that she really was. Should he make his presence known, she might not only have her katana cut wood, but his head instead.

This was rather a difficult situation to be in. Why in the first place was he worrying about the heiress, the sole survivor, of the clan he himself had wiped off?

Watching her channel her anger into deadly means sometimes scared Ichimaru Gin, not only of his life, but also of his heart. For never had he considered a woman who could wield swords graceful, serene, and breathtakingly beautiful.

Only Matsumoto Rangiku was an exception.

For to Ichimaru Gin, she was dancing along with silent drums and shamisen, her feet skipped in time with the wind of the fields and the droplets of rain on a pond in his mind. The drying leaves of wheat rustled as her hand swayed with her sword. Her hair, her sun-kissed hair he could smell strawberries even at such a distance, of which he imagined a bittersweet meeting under the lush persimmon tree with only him and her illuminated by the moonlight. Strands and strands of hair covered her angered face, but only sheer beauty was what he could see.

This was a dance incomparable to any of the geisha he had watched. This was a dance that pulled strings and tugged his heart.

Yet, at the same time, this was a dance that reminded him that a world completely separated them; for he was down deep in hell and she was crying in the heavens. Never in this lifetime would he be able to touch the solace and happiness he'd wished to have only with her.

In the next world, though, would it be different? Would it be any better?

Ichimaru Gin silently walked away.

He went back to the old lady's house and found the boy playing stones on the ground.

"Oi, you want me to give you mochi?" he asked, poking him on the head with the sheath of his blade.

But the white-haired boy only glared at him, like he usually did when he saw him. "What am I, eight?"

"Aren't you six?"

"I'm twelve, baka!"

"Eh?" he gasped, feinting disbelief. "How can you be twelve?"

The boy threw the rocks at Gin, but he expertly caught them as he laughed.

"Do you need me to do something for you? Just spill it out!"

"Aa! Yes, if you could do it, I'll give you two mochi."

"I'm not a kid!"

* * *

"Lady! Oi!"

Matsumoto Rangiku swung her sword and pointed it straight between his eyes just inches away.

"What do you want?"

Toshirou rolled his eyes at the useless threat she posed. "What's with the sword? Put it down."

"What do you want?"

"Just come home."

"I no longer have a home. Go away." She turned her back to him and continued training.

"Have you been doing that all day? Aren't you tired? Or hungry? You haven't eaten anything." But she only ignored him. "Come to our house, you can stay there for a while. Oba-san's cooking fish and miso soup for dinner."

Toshirou didn't understand what was happening, but he could sense that she was very upset – no, very angry. A lot of hate. Pain. But what could a child like him say to someone like her who seemed to have just lost everything?

"Oba-san is really a good cook," he continued, despite getting dead ears from her. "One time, when Momo was sick, she cooked her oyakodon and tea and soup, and Momo got well quickly."

For half an hour, he sat by the weeds and wheat and fumbled with the leaves and flipped the pebbles just to occupy himself. Every now and then, he would tell her stories about his Oba-san's cooking, and Momo's favorite things. He wasn't much of a talker, but he decided that maybe talking to her would convince her that their house was really cozy and she can stay with them.

But it also tired him. It was boring to watch her do the same things over and over; it was embarrassing that he had uttered a thousand words to a stranger! He could actually leave her alone, and let her rot while swinging her stupid sword. But something told him that maybe he'd just have to stick around a little bit, then probably she'd come around.

After all, even in his young mind, he understood that nobody had to be alone when one's heart was in so much pain.

"Pst! Let's go! Or Ichimaru will kill me!" That did it! Finally, he had caught her attention.

"He will what?"

"I said that fox will kill me if you don't come home with me tonight."

"He said that? That sick bastard!"

"Aa. He said, he'll pluck out every limb of my body and won't give me even one piece of mochi if I wasn't able to convince you to stay with us." And the boy wasn't bluffing; he was really quoting Ichimaru's words.

"Huh! Not satisfied killing off a clan?"

"So, come home."

She glowered at the ground in deep thought. "Why would he care if I sleep outside tonight?"

"Beats me, lady."

"What the fuck is he planning again?" she mumbled, yet audible enough for the other to comprehend.

"Don't know. Maybe he just wants you safe tonight, nothing as fancy as an assassination plan, is there?"

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Really, there's nothing to think about. Ichimaru only showed kindness to a few, very few, people. Be thankful to be one of them, or you'd have your head rolling."

Rangiku wanted to laugh at the boy's comment. This was, in no way, Ichimaru Gin's manner of showing kindness. There was not a tinge of kindness in Ichimaru Gin's body, not one bit!

He was a sly fox. Always a step ahead of everyone. He was still up to something; was he planning to stab her back in the most unexpected of moments? Ha! Fat chance! After everything else, she wouldn't let her guard down again.

But then, why, in the deepest of her soul, did she want to try and see what he had in mind – in the hopes that maybe she was wrong all along?

That the sly fox wasn't just someone so sly enough to charm her with his claws, but someone whose paws would wipe her tears and hold her hand.

This time, Ichimaru Gin really, really scared her.

* * *

**AN: **Contrary to the resolve I had written in my profile page, I had now decided to continue on with this fic as my proper way of saying goodbye to the ill-fated couple of BLEACH. With that said, I wish them a good reincarnation to the next life and may they have a better meeting in the next world.

Haha! This chap isn't the best one, but I hope I can get back my love for this fic, as it's difficult to write it with Gin being dead and all! haha! Anyway, sorry for the really long hiatus!

**Chemiskorpion0002**, I just love your Sacred, Scarred, Scared fic! hahaha!

Definition of Terms:

Kitsune: fox spirit; there are a lot of legends about this kitsune, but the possession of the fox (Kitsunetsuki) is the one I have used in this chap.

Onmyouji: specialists of divination and magic. They also protected the Kyoto Capital during the Heian Period from evil spirits. Even after the said period, they were believed to continue practicing their art.

Mochi: Japanese rice cake

Standard disclaimer applies.

Enjoy! :3


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